That One Day (That One #1.5) (20 page)

“I had to check on Archer,” I lie through my teeth.

“I wouldn’t have had a problem staying on the phone,” he says, his voice low and tight.

I try to come up with an explanation that might work. “I had to give Archer my full attention, Dad. You get that, don’t you?”

There is a moment of silence before he sighs. “I understand, but I still don’t appreciate you hanging up on me. You need to learn how to balance things. You can’t just give up everything else for Archer otherwise you’ll end up like me.”

At his words, I want to pull him through the phone and strangle him. I don’t need fucking reminders of whom and what I might become one day, since it’s something I constantly think about.

“I will,” I relent to hopefully close this topic. “Listen, I’ve just got out of the store and wanted to head home. I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?”

Another sigh has more guilt snaking through my veins than I care to acknowledge, but he lets me off the hook.

Letting out a ragged breath, I get into the car and make my way home, ready to surprise Frankie.

***

Back home, I find her napping in the sunroom. I put Archer down on the floor and let him crawl around. I allow myself to watch Frankie for a moment. Her hair is rumpled, her lips lightly parted as she sleeps. She’s so different from the chicks at the store or the girls I used to date. That’s what has always drawn me to her. With Frankie, you get what you see. She doesn’t play games, isn’t fake. She’s herself and comfortable in her skin.

I wake her up, giving her the things I bought. Not just the teething pendant, but also the homeopathic teething gel the lady at the store suggested. Her eyes light up with joy and her lower lip wobbles a bit before she leans over to kiss me. It’s just a gentle peck on the cheek, but it’s more than she has done of her own volition since I came back. She looks happy and relaxed, a smile softening her features and it makes my heart stutter for a moment.

We joke around, no tension between us. We’re just at ease and it’s fucking amazing. I could do this for hours, but suddenly her face gets serious and instantly I’m wary of what will come next. She looks at me, biting her lip.

“Ben, thanks. This was really thoughtful of you. I have a feeling that you question it sometimes, and it’s natural to do so, but you’re a good dad. It’s in your nature.”

I have no idea how to reply to this because her words have rendered me speechless. Hearing that she thinks I’m a good dad despite all the reservations she has toward me is like an early Christmas gift. She’s right. I question my abilities most of the time. I’m new to this, and it’s scary as hell. But I want to be a good father. If there is one thing in my life I do right and not fuck up, I want it to be this.

I pull her close and kiss her forehead, smiling when I see Archer climbing over a few pillows like a man on a mission. Fuck, if this isn’t heartwarming, I don’t know what is.

***

After Archer is asleep, we watch
Golden Girls
with Dean and Alex. It’s the perfect end to a perfect evening. At least until my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. A quick look reveals it’s St. Michael’s again and just as quickly, my good, carefree mood dissipates. I hurry upstairs and into my room to take the call.

Before I get a word in, my dad starts speaking. “Son, I’m sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I worry about you. I know all of this is new to you, being a father, trying to win Frankie back. I just don’t want you to lose yourself in it all.” He sounds emotional, like he’s been battling with his feelings for hours, and it reminds me I have to show some patience. The things he says and does aren’t always governed by reason. More often than not, he’s swept up in his emotions and thoughts that he obviously can’t control. If he could, he wouldn’t be spending his life in a place with high walls and barb wire.

“It’s alright, Dad. Don’t worry about it.” I flop back on my bed and close my eyes.

“So tell me more about your son and the infamous Frankie.”

And so I do. I tell him about how things are going, the back and forth between Frankie and me, the challenges and joys of having a son. What I don’t tell him about are my fears. It’s too big of a risk he might confirm them. Besides, it’s not like he can help me figure out shit anyway. I’m completely on my own in this.

Four days later, I’m on my way back to the house, starving. For the past twenty minutes, I’ve been repairing the window of an old lady in the neighborhood. It was jammed and didn’t close anymore. Considering it’s winter, it wasn’t something I could put off unless I wanted her to freeze to death.

I left Archer with Dean and Alex since that was quicker than dressing him and taking him with me, which would have ended up with an old lady cooing and not letting me leave.

When I walk through the door, I’m greeted by Frankie’s voice. “And yes, it’s because he’s good with his hands.”

I hold back a laugh. With an arrogant smirk on my face, I walk up to the table.

“You talkin’ about me, babe?” I’m curious to see how Frankie will react, what her comeback will be. She’s gotten more relaxed around me the past few days. The awkwardness and tension have eased off and she even surprised me with a crib for my room.

I slide into my chair, waiting for a reply, tapping my fingers on the table.

“No, about my gynecologist,” she deadpans before turning her attention back to her food. Fuck, I didn’t expect that comeback. Now all I think about is some asshole having his hands all over her, inside of her.

Glaring at her, I dig into my dinner. I’m mid-bite when the phone rings, so I let Frankie get it. Not like it’s going to be for me anyway. The only three people calling me don’t have the house number and would try to reach me on my cell.

I’m devouring the chicken bhuna Alex cooked for dinner, not paying much attention to the phone call. Frankie is busy talking to whoever is on the other line, so I concentrate on the food on my plate, as well as on feeding Archer.

“Ben. It’s for you.” I look up at Frankie and notice that her face has gone pale. Her lips are in a thin line and her eyes dart back and forth between me and the receiver in her hand. I cock my eyebrow at her in question. What I don’t expect is her answer.

“It’s your mom,” she says in a quiet and feeble voice.

What the fuck? How did my mom get this number? And what makes her think she can just call here like nothing fucking happened? I’m paralyzed for a moment as anger, hurt, and fear battle inside of me. My father’s face as he told me the truth flashes in my mind and anger takes over.

I stand up and walk to the phone, my steps big and determined. Everyone has gone quiet, making the ringing in my ears more prominent. Frankie’s eyes are big when I stop in front of her, worry and curiosity etched into her features. She looks up at me expectantly.

I ignore it, ignore the boy inside of me who would love to talk to his mom and have her tell him that everything will be all right. Instead, I jerk the phone out of Frankie’s hand and press the
end
button. I put the phone down with enough force to make the small table shake.

Frankie is still looking at me. Her eyes are searching for answers. Answers, I can’t give her.

“Let’s eat,” is the only response I can manage at the moment.

My mood and appetite have gone to hell. Instead of enjoying an awesome dinner, I’m stabbing at my food and forcing it down until my plate is empty. Glad I can get away from Frankie’s inquisitive stare, as well as the glances everyone else shoots my way, I clean up my plate, kiss Archer, and tell everyone goodnight.

Back in my room, I turn on my laptop and put on some music. It always makes me feel better, especially if it’s the right song.

I plop down on my bed with a groan. I just want all of this shit to disappear. Fitting enough, Papa Roach’s “Decompression Period” starts playing and the irony doesn’t escape me. I lie on my bed, listening to one angry and depressing song after another. There are just too many loose ends. I haven’t moved past the issues with my mom and Ron, I’m hiding my dad from Frankie, and I’m lying to my dad. It’s just a question of time when all of this starts to unravel.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. Ben, come here, NOW!” Frankie’s high-pitched squeal rouses me from my self-pity and I dart out of bed, frantic in my attempt to get to her. I charge into her room. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Look at Archer.” She’s so excited, she’s bouncing up and down like a yo-yo.

“He’s standing up. All by himself.” She squeals again and then grabs hold of my arm and tugs at it. It’s hard not to laugh at her excitement. But I get it. I’m trying to stay cool on the outside, but on the inside, I’m jumping up and down with her. My son is standing for the first time, and I’m here to witness it.

“Who’s a big boy? Are you? Yeah, you are.” I grab Archer off the floor and lift him up high above my head, causing him to laugh. And just like that, my earlier shitty mood has dissolved. Just being around this little guy, who always giggles and laughs and makes everything new and exciting, makes me happy. Knowing I’m here to witness his milestones is exhilarating. Soon he’ll be walking and I’ll be here to hold his hand and help him up when he falls.

***

Everyone has gone to bed, including Frankie. Surprisingly, she didn’t give me the third degree about the phone call. Only offered to listen if I wanted to talk, which was a nice change.

But back alone in my room, the phone call is at the forefront of my mind. Distracted, I check my email and send a short message to Allie and Jake, as well as Mike—letting them know how things are going.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m on the bed and breakfast’s website. I look at the photo gallery and find recent pictures from the Thanksgiving party Dave mentioned.

Mom and Ron are standing in front of the fireplace. Ron’s arm is around my mom’s shoulders and they are both smiling for the camera. They are wearing jeans and their butt-ugly Thanksgiving sweaters. They’ve had them forever, and I’ve always found them cringe-worthy, yet really funny. Ron’s sweater shows a pilgrim running after a turkey, while Mom’s sweater has a pilgrim woman running after the pilgrim, a skillet in her hand.

I take a closer look at Mom and Ron’s faces and notice an exhaustion I’ve never seen before. My mom looks like she lost weight, and while her eyes always used to light up when she smiled, they are now filled with sadness and grief; Ron’s expression isn’t any different. But unlike Ron, Mom looks haggard.

I hate myself for caring, knowing she doesn’t deserve it. Not after destroying dad’s life as well as mine. Still, a part of me feels guilty for leaving her, for making her lose her zest for life.

Though I guess all of us lost something. I lost my fucking identity, my home. I lost what I knew to be my life. No matter how guilty I feel, she brought this on herself and has to live with the consequences. Just like I have to every single day—knowing my son will grow up with only one pair of grandparents, who happen to be complete assholes. Knowing my father will never really be a part of my life, locked behind walls. And knowing there’s a chance I might have gotten more from him than just his looks.

The noise of the door clicking shut wakes me up, my eyes flying open. The moon illuminates the room enough for me to see someone moving toward the bed. The closer the person comes, the more I see. Curves in all the right places, tousled dark hair, green eyes, and a shy smile.

“Frankie?” I’m alarmed since she never comes into my room. “Is Archer okay?”

“Archer is fine. He’s sleeping.” She walks toward my bed, pointing to the edge of it. “Can I sit down?”

I’m puzzled by her midnight visit, but there’s no chance I would send her away. “Yeah, sure. What’s up, babe?”

She casts her eyes down to the floor, biting the nail of her thumb for a few seconds. Then she turns to me, her eyes boring into mine.

“I missed you, Ben.” I open my mouth to tell her again how sorry I am and that I missed her too, but she puts a finger to my lips, shushing me. “Please, let me finish.”

She takes a breath, her chest rising and drawing my attention away from her face down to her body. She’s wearing a tank top and boy shorts, nothing more. I can see her nipples straining against the material of her top, making my mouth water and my cock jerk.

“I missed all of you. I missed your touch, your lips on my body, you inside of me.” Her voice is raspy and breathy. She hasn’t withdrawn her hand after quieting me, and now she gently runs her fingers down my collarbone, past my chest, and down my abs. I suck in a breath while my cock grows hard. I place my hand on her knee, squeezing it lightly to make sure this isn’t some kind of weird test, and she’ll end up slapping the shit out of me. A small moan escapes her lips, and she shivers. What the hell is going on? This is so not like Frankie. I have no idea what’s gotten into her, but who am I to stop this. My cock would never forgive me.

“I can’t stop thinking about how you felt, how you moved, how you owned me.” Her breathing quickens further, and her eyes blaze with a wild hunger—a hunger for me. All the while her hand edges closer to the waistband of my sweats.

I groan and slowly inch my hand up her naked thigh. Her skin feels like she’s on fire. My own heart rate and breathing kick up a few notches.

“I’m here now, babe. All yours.”

She licks her lips, watching me while her hand moves farther down and into my sweats, her fingers skimming the head of my stiff cock.

A sexy grin appears on her face.

“You know what I never got to do the first time around?” she asks standing up. My hand falls off her thigh and back to the bed in the process. Not waiting for an answer, she moves down the bed before she climbs between my legs. “I never got a taste of you.” She smiles while pulling my sweats down—my cock springing free, vying for her attention. I hope to God she doesn’t expect an answer because no blood is making its way to my brain.

For a split second, I wrestle with my conscience demanding for me to take care of her needs first, to make this reunion something special. Those thoughts are silenced quickly by my baser instincts when her tongue suddenly licks from the base of my cock along the shaft up to the head. At the feel of her tongue my eyes cross and my hips jerk upward.

She looks up at me with hooded eyes, her tongue circling the head, her fist firmly around the base of my cock. Still looking at me, she sucks me in to the back of her throat.

Every expletive known to man comes out of my mouth between panted gasps. I want to tangle my hand in her hair, take control, but I know I’d probably end up fucking her mouth into oblivion. Instead, I fist the sheets either side of me. She bobs up and down, sucking me in while her tongue circles the head every so often.

“Jesus, Frankie. I won’t last long. Not like this,” I groan, my voice hoarse. Sweat is coating my skin as my balls draw up.

“Mmm...” Frankie hums, sending vibrations through my cock. An electric current is spreading through my body, tightening every muscle.

“Frankie, I’m gonna come,” I grind out in an attempt to warn her so she can pull away, but praying that she won’t.

“I want to taste you,” she says, her lips still around my cock.

The bucking of my hips gets more frantic, my breathing coming out in harsh bursts. I’m so fucking close it physically hurts.

Suddenly, a beeping noise sounds through the air—shrill and unyielding.

Frankie stops what she’s doing.

“No, don’t stop. Please,” I grind out, worried my balls are going to fall off if she stops now.

The beeping continues, causing Frankie to sit up and let go of my cock.

“No, no, no, just ignore it.”

I open my eyes and sit up, panting. Motherfucker. It was just a dream—one without a goddamn conclusion. I listen to the beeping that ruined it, followed by Viv’s hoarse voice. “Shut up, you asshole phone. Just shut the hell up or I’ll throw you out.” Ten seconds later the beeping ceases. “Thank fuck,” I hear Viv exclaim. She opens her door, calling out into the hallway, “Sorry, guys. Forgot to turn off the alarm.”

I want to strangle her or shove the phone down her throat. If not for her damn alarm, my dream wouldn’t have stopped at the most inconvenient time. I groan, flopping back down on the bed.

My cock is so hard it fucking hurts. I run my hands down my face, waiting for my breath to slow down and my cock to stop throbbing, but every time I blink, I can see Frankie’s eyes looking up at me from between my legs. I can feel her tongue on me, the warmth of her mouth surrounding me. Oh, for fuck’s sake, I’ll never get back to sleep like this.

Kicking off the covers, I slip my sweatpants down far enough to free my cock and close my fist around it, slowly moving up and down. I’m lost to the fantasy that plays out in my mind. Images from the dream mix with memories of our night together, causing me to stroke faster and harder. A thin sheen of sweat spreads over my body and my muscles tighten. I hear a noise, and not breaking my rhythm, I open my eyes to find Frankie standing in my room. I stop mid-stroke, unsure how to react.

Her mouth is hanging open, forming a perfect
O
that looks just like the Frankie from my dream. Her eyes are wide and her gaze flicks between my face and cock. She just stands there, watching. So many emotions flicker across her face—embarrassment, hesitation, fear. But the one that seems the strongest is pure lust. She keeps licking her lips and my cock gets even harder, which shouldn’t be physically possible at this point. She looks at me like she’s starving and I’m her favorite meal. Maybe I should tell her she can taste me anytime she wants. I stare at her, waiting for her next move, praying to any existing higher powers for her to just give in to the lust and act out the dream I had.

I clear my throat, getting ready to sign my death warrant by suggesting she put her mouth on my cock, but the noise snaps her out of the cock-induced trance.

“Um. Sorry. Um. Archer’s awake. Downstairs. Classes. I mean…I have classes.” Her voice sounds like sex—breathless and husky. “You have fun…ahh…a great dick…oh God…I mean day.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, her eyes get even bigger. If this were a cartoon, her head would explode right about now. I press my lips together to keep from laughing out loud and watch her hastily leave the room.

My hand is still around my stiff cock, her fascination with it fueling my own lust. I pick up my earlier rhythm, sliding my fist up and down my cock with only one thing on my mind—Frankie. Between the dream and her walking in on me, I’m so fucking horny I come harder than I have in a long time. Biting my lip in order to not wake up the whole house with my groan, I keep on pumping until there’s nothing left in me.

I stay in bed until my breathing slows and my heart isn’t about to jump out of my chest. After a quick clean-up, I pull up my sweats and head for a quick shower. Then I go downstairs to check on Archer and to grab something to eat. Even imaginary sex with Frankie makes me hungry.

Archer is in his playpen, chewing on his teddy’s ear. I pick him up and kiss him, then attempt to give him his chewing ring instead of the poor teddy, but he’s not having any of it, holding on to his toy for dear life.

“You’re gonna be pooping teddy hair if you keep that up, buddy,” I say, but he just ignores me.

Walking into the kitchen, I’m greeted by a grinning Viv.

“How’s your morning, Benjamin?” she singsongs.

“What do you know?” I ask, fully aware that she must know something to put her in such an extremely good mood this early in the morning.

She cackles, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Oh, Frankie mentioned she saw a dick. Didn’t happen to be yours, did it?”

I shake my head and laugh. There’s no point lying since I have no doubt Viv will find out if she puts her mind to it.

“She walked in on me jerking off and was, let’s just say, flabbergasted.”

“Was she now?” Viv’s grin gets bigger and bigger.

“Well, she just kept looking instead of leaving the room.”

“And you’re sure she wasn’t just shocked by how small your dick is?”

The sip of coffee I just took goes down the wrong pipe and I start coughing.

“Did I hit a nerve there?”

“The fuck?” I scowl at her, while she winks at me.

“Chill, I’m just messing with you. We all know you’re well-endowed.”

This conversation is getting weirder by the minute.

“What?” Any wit I might possess has left the building after Viv’s statements.

“When Frankie got back after you pulled that douchebag move on her, she told us about what happened and included way too much information. Not that any of us wanted to know.”

“I’m not sure what to say to that, to be honest.”

“Ha, you don’t need to say anything. The look on Frankie’s face spoke volumes.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“No, she just bolted out the door like the hounds of hell were after her.”

I chuckle, thinking of all the ways I can tease Frankie about this morning.

“You won’t let her live this down, will you?” Viv walks into the living room, still talking while she gets Archer out of the playpen. She brings him back over, setting him on her lap. All the tattoos fascinate him and he quickly loses interest in the teddy bear, instead poking his fingers at the colors decorating Viv’s skin.

“Not for a while, no.” Pointing at Archer, I say, “You’re like his own living, breathing picture book. You won’t need to spend money on entertainment for your own kids. You can just let them look at all your tattoos.”

The smile vanishes from her face and the amusement that was dancing in her eyes is replaced by hurt. Just as quickly, the smile is back in place, though this time it doesn’t reach her eyes. If I hadn’t been looking closely I would have missed it.

“Yeah, that would work.” Her laugh sounds forced, and I get the feeling I hit a nerve somehow. What kind of nerve, I don’t know and I’m not going to ask. We all carry secrets around, and I’m not one to pry. But the hurt and anger in her eyes are familiar, something I’ve seen often enough staring back at me in the mirror for the past year and a half.

Quickly changing the topic, she flashes me a wicked smile and then looks at Archer. “What do you say, little man? Your daddy works on Aunt Viv’s room while we watch him and give annoying commentary to punish him for his stupid behavior in the past? Sounds good? Yeah, I thought so.”

For most of the day, she sure lives up to the threat she made, commenting on nearly everything I do while playing with and entertaining Archer. It should annoy me or piss me off, but Viv has a way about her that makes it impossible to be mad at her. Actually, I enjoy her company since she’s a lot like a guy, just in a heavily tattooed, pierced female body. She calls it how she sees it and doesn’t beat around the bush. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I’ve made a friend in her. One who’s just as eager to tease Frankie as I am.